


That's All, That's Everything

by bsmog



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, I Don't Even Know, M/M, no but really this is all sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6693163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bsmog/pseuds/bsmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has learned his lesson - don't put off until tomorrow what you can say to your boyfriend in the dark in the back of his pickup truck right this second. </p>
<p>Or, the first time Jack tells Bitty he loves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's All, That's Everything

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, guys, I just started reading this innocent webcomic, and the next thing I knew...
> 
> Not my characters, not my sandbox. Only thing around here that's mine are typos and accidental non-canonical errors. 
> 
> Thanks and blame (the good kind that comes with a lot of flailing) in equal parts to sapphirescribe and sadtomato, who planted this little bunny in my brain. Yes, I know, you can't plant a bunny. That's hardly the worst contradiction I've come up with today.

Georgia summers, Jack thinks, must have been made to test a man’s ability to keep his senses. After a few days in Madison, he has a newfound respect for anyone who can wear anything with sleeves south of the Mason-Dixon line, has been chirped endlessly by Bitty, who somehow manages to make sweating to death look like a fashion statement, and he is sure he’s lost 10 pounds in water weight. Although that last part may be his own fault; he still insists on running every morning. Even if the air is so thick in his lungs it feels like he’s sucking in water with every breath.

It doesn’t get better when the sun goes down, either, which is just about beyond his Canadian comprehension. The night air is oppressive, thick and heavy on his skin and soaking into his clothes, but tonight he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight is the 4th of July, and he and Bitty are parked in Bitty’s old pickup truck at the top of a hill on the outskirts of Madison, lying sprawled together in the bed.

And they’re alone. 

Not alone-in-this-room-but-with-Suzanne-and-Coach-on-the-other-side-of-the-wall alone, but all alone. There’s not a car or person anywhere Jack can see, and he’s never been so glad for solitude in his life. 

“Should be startin’ soon, right out that way,” Bitty says and squirms against Jack’s side, somehow managing to get even closer than he was, which is impressive since Jack’s been all but clinging to him since they crawled back here. 

He points at the horizon in front of them, over the tops of the trees below and the lines of cars and picnic blankets Jack can just make out in the distance—the rest of Madison’s viewing place for the upcoming fireworks. 

Bitty’d made some sort of excuse to his parents, something about  _ makin’ sure Jack sees Madison in all her glory, Mama, _ and Mrs. Bittle—Suzanne, he’s got to get that right before he leaves—only winked and smiled and pointed them in the direction of the clean blankets in the hall closet because “the bed of that pickup’s seen better days, Dicky, and Jack’s a guest.”

So here they are, alone in the semi-darkness, tangled up in each other and talking about a lot of nothing. Jack’s soaked to the skin in sweat, especially where Bitty’s pressed against him. He can feel the mosquitos biting at his ankles where his pants have ridden up and knows he’ll be miserable in the morning because he doesn’t handle bug bites well. And yet this is maybe the most perfect night in his whole goddamn life, and he’d spend every minute of the rest of his days sweaty and bug-bitten if it means he gets to hold onto Eric Bittle and never let go.

The thing is, Jack’s never been in love before. He’s been in lust—he’s been in a lot of lust, and he’s not sorry about it. Parse taught him a lot about life—maybe even some things about what love could be, even if it wasn’t something they shared. Relationships have always been a bit like fireworks, before—big and bright and loud and really, really fucking beautiful sometimes, but over as fast as they start without anything left to show for them. 

But with Bitty, it’s not like that. It’s like the field around the truck, heavy and quiet except for this constant, low-level hum of the lightning bugs dotting the grass. Jack’d never seen a lightning bug before this trip; he’s spent the last few nights trying to figure out how to capture them perfectly on camera, much to Bitty’s great delight. He loves them, though. They’re bright and delicate and strong and fast all at once, and Jack is fascinated by them. 

Just like Bitty, he supposes. 

He turns to press his face down into Bitty’s damp hair, breathing in the scent of summer mixed with bug spray lingering on his skin. 

“You alright?” Bitty turns his face up so he’s looking straight up at Jack, eyes shining in the darkness.

Jack can feel Bitty’s breath on his face, can feel Bitty’s heart beating against his chest where it’s pressed up against Jack’s side. Every feeling is magnified, from the warm puffs of air mixing with his just short of his lips to the gentle circles Bitty’s fingers are tracing just under the hem of Jack’s t-shirt, and everything not in the bed of this truck right here in this moment might as well be a million miles away. 

Jack nods and swallows, because he can’t not say it anymore, but he’s afraid all of a sudden. It’s been a long time since he was on unfamiliar ground, but this is as new as it gets and he wants to get it just right. 

And he knows this isn’t just right, because it’s silly and cliched. It’s too soon, they’re too young, this thing between them is too new. 

But as he looks down into Bitty’s eyes, it really  _ is _ just right. 

“I need to tell you something,” he says. He hardly recognizes his own voice, rough and broken in the night air. 

Bitty’s eyebrows draw down and together, and he flexes as though to move away from Jack, but Jack tightens his grip and huffs at himself, because clearly he’s started this all wrong.

“No, nothing like that, it’s-” 

He huffs again. Ducks his head to press his lips to Bitty’s softly, because he’s grounded there. Pulls away with the hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, because it’s still new enough that he’s still amazed he gets to kiss Eric Bittle any time he wants to.

“I think I’ve been in love with you since the first day I met you,” he says all in a rush, and oh, here come the words now. “I didn’t know it, because I’ve never been in love before, but looking back, I-” 

He wants to shut his eyes, because he can barely stand the sounds of his own voice, so desperate to say the right words that he’s just saying every word he can think of. 

_ “Crisse,”  _ he hisses under his breath.

“Jack, did you just-”

“Just, let me finish?” He definitely does not beg. Really. That’s not begging in his tone.

Bitty nods. Jack can see where red spots have bloomed on his cheeks, can feel his breath quicken. Can see the deepening of his dimples where his smile threatens to come through at what he thinks Jack is saying

At what Jack hopes he hopes Jack’s saying. 

The thing is, though, Jack’s never been in love, but he’s pretty sure no one’s ever been in love with Bitty, either. He doesn’t understand why. Bitty is all warmth and forgiveness and patience wrapped up in this gorgeous package Jack’s got in his arms. Everyone on earth should be in love with Bitty, and Bitty deserves so much more than Jack.

He deserves to have this come out  _ just right. _ Except it won’t, because Jack is brilliant at a lot of things, but not this.  _ Bitty _ is brilliant at this; Jack needs practice. 

Best start now.

“I’m not going to get this right,” he says apologetically, then reaches up to let his thumb run over the sweat-sticky skin on Bitty’s cheek, which earns him a smile and the brush of a kiss against his palm. “But I try not to make the same mistake twice, and if kissing you at graduation taught me one thing, it’s that I should stop holding things in just because I might get them wrong.”

“Jack,” Bitty whispers. 

Jack shuts him up with another kiss, because he really wants to get this out. And because kissing Bitty will never,  _ ever _ get old. 

“If I’d learned that lesson before, I’d have been kissing you long before graduation. We’ve got a lot of time to make up for.” He grins. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Can we get back to-?” Bitty’s voice is almost a whine, even if he is trying to look stern. 

“You aren’t seriously going to chirp me about telling you I love you, are you?” And oh, it turns out he got it just right after all if the smile that lights up Bitty’s face is any indication. He ducks his head again until his lips are almost right on top of Bitty’s, so that every word is almost a kiss. “Because I do love you, Bitty. I think I always have, or damn close. I know it’s too soon and all that, but I didn’t want to let any more time go by without you knowing.”

“That you love me?” Bitty whispers against Jack’s lips. 

Jack grins and leans in the last little bit to kiss him properly. 

“That I love you,” he says. “You don’t have to-”

“Jack Zimmermann, if you tell me I don’t have to tell you I’ve been in love with you for literally  _ years _ and that I woke up this morning and  _ pinched myself _ to make sure I wasn’t dreamin’ all this, I will...I will…”

“Never thought I’d see the day you couldn’t chirp me or threaten me,” Jack says, but his voice is soft and a little awed, because  _ tabarnak _ , Bitty loves him too.

“You’re lucky I love you, too, Mister,” Bitty says, and his voice is soft and maybe breaking a little, and Jack can see his eyes shining maybe a little more than they were a few minutes ago. “Chirpin’ me at a time like this.”

“Bitty,” he says, all traces of humor gone, because in the end they’re all banter and chirping, but this is important. 

Bitty deserves to have this be something he’ll hold onto, something he’ll lock away and take out to think about when they’re not wrapped around each other and undisturbed by everything that will make this harder later. Hell, after everything he’s been through for so long, maybe  _ Jack _ even deserves to have this one thing for himself. 

He thinks his therapist would be proud of him for giving himself permission to be happy. And as he looks down into Bitty’s face, he realizes that’s exactly what he is. Happy. 

“I love you, Bits. That’s all. That’s what I had to tell you. I love you.”

Bitty cranes his neck and kisses Jack softly. 

“I love you, too,” he whispers. “And that’s everything.”

 


End file.
